


Spoils

by gargamella



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse of Power, Age Differences, Agegap Kink, Alternate Universe, Child Physical Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Coercion, Consensual Power Play, Corporal Punishment, Daddy Kink, Date Rape, Grooming, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Non-Consensual Power Play, Non-Consensual Spankings, Parent-Child Incest, Rape, Stepfather-Stepson, Stockholm Syndrome, dub-con, references to Steve/Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gargamella/pseuds/gargamella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard did find Steve. This changes the relationship between Howard, Steve, and Tony quite drastically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Howard's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the tags and warnings before you continue! This is a very wrongbaddirty fic, and the only relationship in it that can be called consensual is the one between Steve and Howard. Everything else is a big ball of creepy and wrong. Tony is underage during the entire fic.

It was Steve's idea to bring Tony back home from boarding school. 

"No child belongs that far away from his parent, Howard," Steve said, and Howard would have argued with him, but Howard had never successfully won an argument against Steve. 

He would have argued, had he been able to actually do anything but cave when Steve turned two disappointed eyes towards him. 

"I'll think it over," Howard promised. 

Steve reached over from his spot on the sofa and squeezed Howard's knee, which was a dirty, rotten, _low_ trick. 

"Do more than think about it, Howard," Steve encouraged, and his breath was warm enough on Howard's ear that all Howard could do was nod in agreement. 

"I need to hear more than that, soldier," Steve warned as his hand cupped Howard through his pants. Howard couldn't quite hold back the whimper that followed the action. Steve had been back in Howard's life less than six months, and he'd already ruined four pairs of Howard's best pants with his hands.

That wasn't why Howard was whimpering, though. 

"I'm sorry, Captain," Howard murmured when Steve's squeezing grew more insistent. "I'll talk it over with the boy's mother right away." 

"With _Tony's_ mother," Steve corrected. "Use the child's name, soldier." 

Howard thought about telling Steve that Howard hadn't been trapped in ice for decades, so he was well aware of the child's name. The sass didn't have time to leave Howard's lips, but it did make him hesitate just a little bit too long. 

The hesitation was long enough that Steve pinched the inside of Howard's thigh. If Howard hadn't already been hard, that single action would have put him there immediately. There was nothing better in the world than when Steve Rogers pulled rank and acted like the alpha male captain that he otherwise never was. 

Howard would never stop feeling proud of the fact that he was one of the few people who actually got to see that in action. 

"I'll discuss it with Tony's mother," Howard said quickly. 

"Good soldier," Steve praised, and he must have meant it, because Steve spent the rest of the night doing his best to ruin that expensive imported couch that Maria had loved so much.

* * *

Calling Maria was not really something Howard looked forward to these days. Who could blame him, really? Their marriage had always operated on the assumption that she was the greatest love of his life. 

Then Howard had actually found the greatest love of his life, and the only honorable thing he could do was give her a divorce quietly, along with a sizable chunk of money to serve as an apology. 

But he'd promised Steve, and Howard always kept his promises to Steve. Even if Steve was the only person Howard could say that about, at least Howard could say that much. 

"Good morning, Maria. How's the dig coming?" he asked in what he hoped was a good imitation of cheerful. 

"What do you want, Howard?" 

"Oh, are we going to do this? This cliche version of exes where we fight each time we call each other?" 

"You're the only one who ever calls," Maria reminded him. "For a reason. If you're calling to renegotiate the settlement I won fair and square, you can have your attorney call my attorney." 

"No, no. You won that fair and square." Not that he'd put up much of a fight, of course. Obadiah was right about the fact that some sheets just shouldn't be aired in public. 

"Then what the hell do you want?" 

"I'm calling to talk about Tony." 

There was a long pause and for a minute, Howard wondered if Maria had hung up on him, and if so, if Steve would hold that against him. 

"The child is 11. In eleven years, never once have _you_ brought _him_ up to me. It's always been the other way around." 

Well, it wasn't exactly an unfair accusation. "You were a wonderful mother. I never had to - " 

"Oh, spare me." He can hear Maria rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone. "Is this what happens when you get a new piece of ass, Howard? A _younger_ one who doesn't need to send his assistant out to the seedy part of town to buy the dick to shove up your ass? You get all _sentimental_ on me?" 

"I was thinking of bringing him home. Send him to a nice private school here." 

"Why on earth would you do that?" Maria demanded. 

"He hates boarding school." 

"You've never given a damn until now." 

"Sometimes things change." 

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line and then a long string of laughter. "Is that what this is about? You've got a new _wife_ and you've decided to bring your son home so you can play house?" 

"No," Howard denied. "Look, Steve thinks it would be a good idea - " 

"It's a _bad_ idea," Maria insisted. "But if you want to bring Tony _home_ and make him suffer through your attempts at trying to appease your new wife, you go right ahead. Unlike you, I have an actual _job_ to do." 

The line went dead, and Howard went to go report back to Steve.

* * *

Initially, things went well with Tony. 

Howard worried, because he knew that Tony loved his mother more than anyone, and it wasn't as though Howard could claim that he _wasn't_ replacing Maria. 

It would have been perfectly reasonable if Tony had hated Steve on sight. 

But Tony was smart. Maybe smart enough to realize that would have gotten him sent right back to that expensive boarding school. Maybe that was the reason that Tony ended up getting along so well with Steve, after all. 

Of course, it could have been the cookies. 

The cookies in question were sprawled on a lavish tray on Tony's lap, while he sat next to Steve on Maria's favorite couch and watched Kirk choose not to kill the Gorn from a tape that was nearly worn out from the times that Tony had replayed it. 

"I was sad that Mom got Jarvis in the divorce, but these cookies are almost better than anything he ever made," Tony said with delight.

"They were my mom's recipe," Steve explained. He beamed up at Howard, no doubt pleased at the little display of domesticity, as he offered Howard a cookie. 

They weren't bad, but Howard hated raisins in his cookies. 

"If you've got any more of her recipes, you should absolutely make them," Tony said enthusiastically. 

"I'll see what I can do," Steve promised, scooting over a little to make room for Howard on the sofa.

* * *

The problem, unfortunately, was that Tony was a spoiled brat. 

Namely, he was a spoiled brat who didn't understand that he couldn't just walk into Howard's lab anytime he wanted. 

"You know better than to come in here. You could get hurt or - " 

"I'm smart enough to be in this room," Tony argued right back. 

"Watch your tone," Howard warned him. "You aren't quite that smart, yet." 

"I'm smart enough that I can build anything!" Tony yelled at him. "Even better than you!" 

Howard could feel his temper rising as he reached out and grabbed Tony by the arm. "You want to be in the lab so badly? You'll get to be in the lab for the _entirety_ of your punishment." 

There was a rebellion in Tony's eyes that hadn't been there before Howard had sent him away to boarding school. Maybe Tony had been right all along and sending him to that place had been a bad idea. 

But whatever nonsense they had taught him there wasn't enough to overcome Tony's natural desire to please his father. When Howard jerked Tony by his arm, dragging him towards only chair that wasn't piled high with equipment, and instructed him to pull down his pants, Tony did so with minimal hesitation. 

It was almost enough to calm Howard's anger at his son's bratty behavior. "Lean over and hold on to the chair," Howard instructed, forcing his voice to be calm as he undid his belt. "If you lose your grip, I start over from the beginning." 

"I remember the drill." 

The first crack of the belt was every bit what Tony deserved. "Really? You seem to have forgotten that you need to address me properly when I punish you." 

Howard could see the fingers digging into the iron back of the chair and he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Tony was a good kid, all things considered. He just needed a little help. 

"Yes, _Sir._ " 

The address almost sounded sarcastic, but after a few more swings of the belt, it began to sound sincere enough.

* * *

When Steve came home, Tony was still sulking in his room, and Howard was nursing a glass of scotch in the safety of his lab. 

"Everything okay here?" Steve asked. "Tony's giving me one word answers that keep ending in 'Sir' and you didn't answer the first few times that I called." 

"All you missed was a bit of discipline for a child acting like a brat," Howard answered. 

"I thought the two of you were getting along well?" There was a frown over Steve's features when he asked it, and Howard squashed the irritation that wasn't entirely Tony's fault for ruining Steve's opinion of him. 

"We were. He just needed a spanking, Steve. And now he's sulking about it. He'll be over it come breakfast time." 

"In that case ... " Steve came over and took the drink out of Howard's hand. "That sounds like you and I have plenty of time to ourselves this evening. Would you like that?" 

"Nothing would make me happier, Captain." 

Steve tilted Howard's head up, with just enough force to hurt. "Then ask me properly, soldier." 

Howard waited only long enough for Steve to let go of his chin, before he dropped to his knees. "Please, _Sir._ Please." 

Steve smiled down at him indulgently, before granting Howard's wish.


	2. Tony's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please read the warnings. I really do mean them. 
> 
> I'm taking the age differences between the movie versions of Steve and Bucky from the deleted Avengers scenes that list Bucky's birthday as 1922.

Despite MIT being his father's alma mater, it was actually Steve who visited the campus with Tony. 

"I do feel a little out of my element," Steve told him on the drive there. 

"Driving a car instead of your cool bike? Understandable," Tony retorted. 

Steve chuckled. "I think you miss the bike more than I do." 

It was hard to deny. What wasn't to love about the bike that Tony had helped Steve restore? They'd taken it apart entirely and put it back together again, without any help from Tony's dad. Both Howard and Tony had been afraid that Tony wouldn't be able to fix it the way he'd promised Steve he could, but Steve never had that doubt. 

_"I trust you,"_ Steve had said. 

"I don't know. There's something sentimental about you, me, Def Leppard, and Quiet Riot on the way to MIT," Tony pretended to muse. 

Steve groaned right on cue. " 'Quaint' is not the word I would use to describe that music." 

"Yes, but if we let you pick the music, we'd be listening to 'It's Raining Men' or Duran Duran and I cannot afford to lose my cool points this close to going to college, Cap." 

It was meant to be an off the cuff response, but of course Steve took it seriously. "Don't worry about your cool points," Steve said. "All you have to worry about is being yourself and everyone will love you. They won't have any choice." 

"You know, this is a much better pep talk than Dad's 'don't knock anyone up' speech." 

"Well." Steve gave a little shrug. "Talking about protection is always important, Tony. I assume he shared the ... ah, details?" 

"Oh god, please tell me this is not a talk about condoms. Are you trying to talk to me about condoms, Cap? I may have to throw myself out of this moving car if you are trying to talk to me about condoms." 

"'You can't beat the Axis if you get VD,' " Steve quoted. "And condoms are important. Not just for preventing pregnancy."

"I know! Science! I know science," Tony protested. "Why can't you be old and out of touch with sex and horrified at the very idea of me having sex with anyone?" 

Steve paused then. Eventually he said, "I knew people younger than you having sex when I was growing up."

* * *

After his visit to MIT, Tony spent the rest of the summer before his last year of high school with his mom. He certainly couldn't complain about the experience, because who could complain about spending the summer in Rome? 

His mother, who had waited only six months longer than his father to move on, had a husband who didn't seem as enamored with Tony as Steve was. But nonetheless, she greeted him with the warm, open arms that he always remembered her having, on the days that she was actually home and not off on some foreign dig thousands of miles away. 

"You've grown so much," his mother cooed, and Tony hugged her a little tighter, just to see the lips of his stepfather thin a little more. 

"I eat a lot. That's what Dad says, anyway." 

"Your father is a cretin. A handsome, devilishly intelligent cretin, but a cretin never the less." Bright red lipstick stained Tony's forehead as she added a generous amount of kisses to the greeting ritual. "I'm glad the new wife can cook, though I'm sure he doesn't do so nearly as good as Jarvis." 

"Well, I'll try my best to eat you and Jarvis out of house and home, too, for comparison's sake." Tony rather liked the way the stepfather's eyes narrowed at the casual exclusion. 

But really, it wasn't as though it was _Geoffrey's home._ It wasn't his money paying for the cozy little villa. 

"I'm sure Jarvis will love that. He worries about you almost as much as I do," his mother told him, and Tony squashed down the disloyal thought that Jarvis may not have worried as _much_ , but he probably worried more often. 

"If you're done, we have a site to get back to, Maria," Geoffrey commented, as if to prove Tony right. 

"Do you have to go so soon?" Tony asked. It wasn't a battle he'd ever won, but maybe just this once, he might. Maybe divorce would have changed things in his favor.

It didn't. 

"There really is a lot to be done. But we have the whole summer to get reacquainted," his mother promised. "Save me a seat at dinner tonight, alright? Jarvis is making your favorite."

* * *

His mother missed a lot of dinners that summer. 

But Tony was in _Rome._ There was plenty to be done to keep himself occupied. 

After all, he was _Tony Stark_ , heir of the famed Nazi hunter himself. Parties were more appropriate for bored heirs to attend than family dinners, anyway. 

The room was small - smaller than any room Tony had ever been in, and Tony thought that it wasn't really fit enough for one person, let alone three. He felt like he was suffocating, and every bone in his body was screaming at him to get _out._

"What's the matter, rich boy? The hotel not fancy enough for you?" the boy - Tony hadn't been paying attention when the name had been given, because he hadn't been planning on being in a situation where it had mattered much, the way it suddenly seemed to - sneered down at Tony. His hands were on Tony's shoulders, and Tony thought that he had maybe gotten carried away with the alcohol tonight, because moving should be easier. 

Even with the boy holding his shoulders and the girl straddling his lap. 

"He's a little younger than I'd normally go for." The girl on his lap had hair blonder than _Steve_ and eyes that didn't seem quite as blue, and her breasts were the first pair that Tony had ever seen. 

"C'mon, Sarah, how many other chances are you going to get to fuck a billionaire's kid back in Wisconsin?" the boy's lips were on Tony's ear and Tony tried again to move. The boy's hands tightened on his shoulders. "Shh, Stark. We'll take good care of you, don't worry." 

"Actually, I need to go - " Tony couldn't remember drinking quite that much, but even his words weren't coming out quite right. 

"He's pretty young. Maybe it's his first time." The girl, apparently named Sarah, laughed, and Tony couldn't think of what could be so funny. 

"I'm sure he's fucked more people than the two of us combined. Hot little piece of ass like this probably helps to seal all sorts of Stark Industries deals." 

Tony genuinely wanted to throw up at _that_ idea and he struggled in earnest, but then Sarah's lips were on his, and the boy was reaching around him to unbutton his pants, and Tony's body was starting to react. 

As far as places to lose his virginity went, Tony supposed Rome was as good of a place as any. He didn't make it home to dinner that night.

* * *

"How was your trip to Rome?" Steve asked as he flipped through the family photo album that Tony's mother had insisted that he bring home with him. 

"It was okay," Tony answered with a shrug. "Nothing happened that you really want to hear about." 

Steve looked over at him from his spot on the sofa. "Tony, I want to hear everything about you." He inclined his head towards the picture on his lap. "Even if it doesn't involve you in Captain America costumes." 

Tony was pretty sure that he was tired of hearing about Captain America by the time that he was six years old. Specifically, Halloween when he was six, because that was the Halloween during which Howard thought it would be a great idea to make Tony dress up as Captain America. 

"He was drunk," Tony explained, sitting next to a Steve Rogers who wasn't anything like the man he'd envisioned hating. This Steve Rogers wasn't a stuffy model of perfection wrapped in a flag. This one smelled like leather jackets and the wind, and sat close to Tony on the couch while they looked through old family photos. This one put more time and effort into being Tony's parent than either of Tony's actual parents, so Tony figured it would kind of make him a world-class asshole if he actually held a grudge against him for something that wasn't Steve's fault. 

"Your father has a lot of terrible ideas when he's drunk," Steve answered. His voice was rich with disapproval and Tony knew that his father was right during all those times he accused Tony of being a bad son, because Tony's stomach grew warm with the knowledge that Steve's disapproval was reserved for _his father_ and not for _Tony._ "Besides, you were old enough at six to pick out your own Halloween costume." 

Tony shrugged, as though it didn't matter. He grinned as though he hadn't spent the entire Halloween in his father's lab, trying to get the costume to live up to his father's expectations. He tapped the photo lightly with his fingers as though he hadn't been disappointed that he'd been unable to attend Tommy's party - as if Tommy hadn't been one of the few kids his own age who had wanted anything to do with a six year old who was building their own engine. 

"The thing is, I thought I made a really great Captain America," Tony said. "Even if I took some liberties with the costume. Dad disagreed, though." 

"You did make a great Captain America," Steve said. Tony figured that he was entirely too old to get a hug to make him feel better, but he leaned into the arm that Steve threw around his shoulder anyway. "But you would have made an even better Bucky." 

"Bucky was your friend, right?" 

Tony felt Steve's hand momentarily tighten on his shoulder, before Steve nodded, his chin bumping against the top of Tony's head. "He was my best friend. Saved my from getting beat up plenty of times, and didn't mind hanging out with a guy who couldn't find any friends his own age at the orphanage." 

Tony tried to imagine a time in which everyone didn't completely fall over themselves to fall in love with Captain America, but couldn't quite do it. "Tell me about him?" 

Tony looked up to see Steve looking down at him, eyes clouded over by something that Tony couldn't quite identify yet. "You sure you want to suffer through an old man reminiscing?" he asked. "Seems like you got enough of that before your dad found me." 

"I don't mind, as long as it's you doing the reminiscing, Old Man." 

Steve chuckled as he leaned back into the couch. He was quiet for a long time, long enough that Tony started to think that he wasn't going to talk about Bucky Barnes that night at all.

But then he began to speak, and although he left things out, a very clear picture began to form in Tony's head about the relationship between Bucky and Steve. Steve kept talking, even as Tony's father came in to join them. 

Bucky sounded ... like an entirely different man than Tony's father, and Tony couldn't help but ask, "Do you miss him?" 

Because if your childhood sweetheart was a saint, how did you end up with _Howard Stark?_

Steve's hand squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Every day."

* * *

Tony didn't know what kind of work Steve did, exactly. He knew that it involved working for the government, that Tony's father was probably involved, and that Steve hadn't worn his Captain America costume since he'd been "defrosted." 

Too many people on both sides of the political fence wanting to use his ideals against each other, Steve told Tony. But Tony didn't pry further, because each time he tried, Steve just looked so _sad_ and Tony was felt like crap each time he was the cause of that. 

But whatever government job that Tony wasn't privy to required Steve's presence, Steve had to go when they called. 

Steve, unlike Tony's father, always seemed reluctant to go. Steve always kissed Tony goodbye on the forehead, and Tony usually tried to give a token comment about how he was too old for that, which usually resulted in a hair ruffle. 

Howard usually got a kiss on the lips, unless he was drunk. On those nights, he got a kiss on the forehead.

* * *

On the nights that Steve did leave, it was pathetically easy to earn his father's disapproval. It wasn't that he was trying to piss Howard off, exactly. He could do without those belt whippings, thank you very much. 

_"You and your father are very passionate men,"_ Tony's mother had always said. That was where she thought the probably was. 

Tony sometimes thought the problem was with the fact that Howard couldn't accept that Tony was neither Howard nor Steve. 

"You'll be going to MIT next year," Howard mentioned at the dinner table on one evening, when all he'd gotten from Steve was a peck on the forehead goodbye. It was a sign that Tony should have retreated to his room immediately. 

Tony did sometimes ignore warning signals all together. 

"That's the plan," Tony agreed. "Counting down the days, Dad?" 

"Watch the mouth," Howard snapped, and Tony inwardly winced. 

"Sorry." Howard's frowned deepened, and Tony hastily added, " _Sir._ "

It was enough to pacify him long enough to say, "Have you given any thought to the role you'll be playing when you join Stark Industries?" 

He had. He'd even discussed it with Steve, who had warned him that the conversation wasn't going to be an easy one to have with his father. 

"Actually, I'd been thinking about that a lot," Tony said truthfully. "I'm not sure Stark Industries is where I'm going to go after MIT." 

His father _laughed_ , which was probably when the whole conversation got off track. "What are you planning on doing? Make a living selling your little robots? Come on, Tony, it's time to grow up." 

Indignation rose up and Tony spat his words at his father. "I don't want to make _weapons_ for a living, _Sir._ "

"And I don't like your tone very much," Howard answered. 

"Sorry, Sir," Tony said, and this time he forced himself to be more demure, no matter how much he didn't want to, but Tony could tell by the look on Howard's face that it was too late. 

"No, I don't think you are. I think Steve's been putting things into your head. Filling you full of ideas about how you can use your gifts to make the world a better place." Howard's lips twisted into a smirk. "Is that it, boy? Because you shouldn't get to feeling special. He gives the same speech to me." 

"It's important to him," Tony said quietly. "He tells me what it was like in the war - " 

"I was _there_." 

"Then why don't you feel the same way he does?" 

It wasn't meant to be argumentative, but that apparently didn't matter. "I think you need a little reminder of the fact that you don't get to question me, boy." 

Arguing only made it worse and only made it last longer. Tony wanted to argue, but he also wanted to be able to move in the morning. So he stood up and started to unbutton his pants. 

Howard held up a hand. "I have a dinner to finish. Go upstairs to your room. I'll come deliver your punishment when I'm finished." 

That was a first, but Tony didn't question it. It was just like Howard to make him have to _wait_ for the punishment to be over.

* * *

Tony's sheets were red, and he bitterly thought that must be pretty appropriate. His fingers were digging into them and Tony's mouth tasted of blood as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. 

Each cry just earned him another whipping and Tony was beginning to get to the point where he would have bitten off his own tongue to make the whippings stop.

"I don't blame you, you know," his father said and Tony tried to let his brain catch up with what his father was even talking about, but it couldn't. There had only been silence while the belt rose and fell, and Tony had no idea what he was talking about. 

"It's perfectly natural to look up to Steve. To adore him. For him to be your _favorite._ " 

Tony wanted to tell him that he'd spent 11 years taking a back seat to the search for Steve Rogers, so he damn well knew that much. But whatever this rant was about, it had gotten Howard to pause the belt, so Tony would just be grateful about that. 

"But the problem with you, Tony, is that you forget your place. You forget that you don't _deserve_ that kind of perfection." The belt came down again and Tony had to bite into his arm to keep from crying out. "He has you so confused that you think you could be _Bucky_. You think you could be that perfect little underage best friend sucking him off in the middle of an alley somewhere." 

Tony's stomach churned at the very idea of what his father was suggesting. "No, Sir," he swore. "I don't - " 

"Don't correct me." Tony bit into his arm again as the next round of the belt hit across his skin. "I see your flirting, Tony. All the cuddling and touching and kissing. Jarvis told me that you spent the summer whoring and drinking your way across Rome, so I know good and goddamn well that you aren't an innocent little virgin anymore." 

The urge to throw up was there, and Tony wondered how much worse his father would punish him if Tony did vomit all over the floor. 

Tony wanted to tell his father that what he did with Steve was normal. Normal every day father and son things, the kind that Howard had no interest in. 

"He doesn't know, of course," his father continued. "He thinks of himself as your _daddy._ Do you have any idea how disgusted he would be if he knew what kind of thoughts you were having about _daddy_?"

"Yes, Sir," Tony answered quietly, because it deserved an answer, and because he could very easily imagine how disgusted Steve would be. 

The idea of making Steve disgusted at him hurt worse than the welts his father had made on his ass. 

"I don't blame you," his father continued. "I don't expect you to stop. But always remember who you are and what you do and don't deserve. You'll _never_ be Bucky, and you'll never be good enough for Steve." 

It was both different and the same as all the times that his father had asked him why Tony couldn't just be as good as Steve had been. Just like before, Tony didn't have any answers. 

His father had been talking for so long that the next crack of the belt was unexpected. So much so that Tony wasn't prepared to stop the cry that resulted from the force. 

Tony expected another beating for his lapse. Instead his father said, "Do you want me to stop, son?" 

"Yes, Sir, please." 

"You'd do anything to make daddy stop, wouldn't you, son?" 

"Yes, Sir. Yes, daddy." 

"Mmm, daddy, yes. I like that better than Sir. It tells me you remember your place better." Howard walked around in front of Tony. 

Tony tried to tell himself that he was imagining the bulge in Howard's pants, but he knew he wasn't. He was a teenager, not a child, and he knew what that meant. 

"Please, daddy," he said softly. "I'm sorry, daddy." 

"Always so eager to please your daddies." Howard sneered down at him as the pants were pushed to the floor. "Always so eager to suck your daddies' cocks." Howard took a step closer, and rubbed the belt along Tony's cheek. 

The threat wasn't stated, but it was implied enough that, when Howard pressed his cock to Tony's lips, Tony didn't give so much as a whimper of protest before he opened his mouth. 

"Steve would be so _disgusted_ if he could see how much you love the taste of daddy's cock," Howard murmured, with his fist full of Tony's hair.

* * *

It was morning before Steve got home. That was pretty typical, and on most mornings, Tony would have been up to greet him. 

But after a shower and a change of sheets the night before, Tony remained in bed, too sore to actually get up and move. 

But Steve came to visit him anyway. 

"Hey, I stopped by your favorite bakery on my way home. Got you the donut holes you like so much," Steve said when he entered the room. 

"Thanks. Can you put them on the night stand?" Tony asked. 

"Well, if this is how you're going to greet me, I'm not sure you deserve them." 

Steve's voice, when it was full of disapproval, was one of the worst things in the world, Tony was sure. He sat up, with a struggle. "Sorry, Cap." 

Except now Steve was frowning. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine, Cap." 

There was a pause in which Steve did set the donuts down on the night stand. "Your father punished you again, didn't he?" 

"Yeah, we talked about my career plans, I got a little mouthy. You know how it is." 

Steve's hand was in his hair, and part of Tony wanted to push him away. Part of Tony wanted to prove that he didn't want what his father claimed he wanted. 

But the other part couldn't imagine pushing Steve away for any reason.

"Let me see," Steve said quietly. 

"It's not that bad, Cap, really." 

"Let me see." The repeated words were firmer this time, a command voice that Tony was sure others had heard before. 

Steve didn't say anything when Tony pulled down his pants, but the commands kept coming. "Stay here. I'm going to get some ointment for that." 

Tony lied there, face down on his bed, in a repeat from the night before. Except this time around, the hands were gentle and the words were kind as Steve spread the ointment over the welts that had formed. 

"I'll have a talk with your father," Steve told him as Tony pulled up his pants.

Tony crawled back into bed. "Thanks for the donuts, Cap."

"Anything for my favorite Stark," Steve murmured, and Tony fought down the sense of triumph that his words caused.

* * *

There were a lot of loud voices coming from down the hall. 

At first, Tony tried to block them out. He'd never liked it when his mother and father fought and he didn't want to hear Steve fighting with his father either. 

But after a while, the only voice that Tony could hear was _Steve's_ , and it wasn't like his father to give up a fight at all. 

So even though it hurt, Tony crept out of the bed, opened the door, and crept closer to his father and Steve's bedroom door. Even if his father was going to accuse him of terrible things, maybe Steve wouldn't believe it. Steve might even take his side. 

He didn't hear the first, unmistakable sound of a slap until he stood right outside their bedroom door.

"Two, Sir," his father's voice cried out. 

"But you deserve more," Steve was saying, and he sounded so angry. Angrier than Tony had ever heard Steve sound. "All those welts all over that boy. You were drunk, Howard. You should never punish the boy when you're drunk." 

Another slap. 

"Three, Sir. Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." 

"You should be," Steve growled. 

Tony slipped back to his bedroom, his mouth dry. But he couldn't get the images out of his head that those words had created. So he slipped back out of the bed and made his way to the shower. 

It certainly wasn't the first time he'd ever jerked off, but it was the first time that the idea of Steve's hands on him were what drove him to finish.


	3. Steve's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. The whole chapter wasn't working, and I realized that half of it has to be in Tony's POV for the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who is reading the dirty wrong.

Steve was in love with Howard. He felt that was very important to point out, because there were people in Howard's life who tried to convince Howard otherwise. These people were primarily named Obadiah Stane. There were rarely people that Steve actually hated, but he was pretty sure that he hated Stane more than he had hated anyone other than The Red Skull. 

Then there was Peggy, who couldn't understand why Steve still loved Howard, when Howard wasn't the same man that they'd both once known. 

"I don't know if it was the war or the searching for you that changed him," Peggy said to him as her husband discussed business with Howard. "But he's not the same man we knew." 

"He is the same man, Peggy. He's just more scarred than he was. So am I. How can we judge that? How can either of us?" 

"Look at the way he treats his son," Peggy answered calmly. "How can you _not_ judge that?" 

"Howard loves Tony. He just doesn't know how to show it very well." 

"You've managed," Peggy said dismissively. "If you can, why can't his own father?" 

It was times like these that Steve thought about telling Peggy the truth about just what kind of man the war had made _Steve_ into. 

But part of him would always love her and he couldn't handle letting her know what he'd become. So he offered her another drink from Howard's well-stocked bar, and let their talk drift to S.H.I.E.L.D. business. 

Later, Howard was on his stomach, stretched across the wide blue cotton sheets and Steve thrust enough to hear those small grunts. Steve wasn't sure if they were pleasure or pain, sometimes, but he did know that both things were something that Howard enjoyed. 

"I don't think she likes me very much anymore," Howard said to Steve after they were finished and Howard was lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. 

"She was stronger than us," Steve offered. "The war didn't change her as much." 

"Us?" Howard rarely laughed anymore, but when he did, the comparisons between Howard and Tony were too obvious not to make, and that sliced into Steve even more sharply than the comparisons between them normally did. "Steve, the war didn't change you at all." 

The worst part of it was that Howard wasn't entirely wrong.

* * *

The problem with most of Steve's memories was that they didn't feel quite so far away as they should have. For memories that had happened decades ago, they still felt like they'd occurred only yesterday. 

When Tony was around, they felt even more recent than yesterday. In the beginning of Steve's relationship with Howard, he tried to convince himself that it was natural to look at the underage brown-haired boy and think of Bucky. But in the early stages, it had been natural. In the early stages of his relationship with Howard, he hadn't _craved_ things nearly as strongly as he now did. In the early stages of his relationship with Howard, Steve still thought he could be the kind of fatherly influence that Tony needed. 

But Tony's brown eyes were clear and bright and sharp; like Bucky, Tony saw more than his years should have allowed. 

Steve was doing okay when he looked at Tony and wanted Bucky. It was when he began to look at Tony and want _Tony_ that he began to know that he was entering dangerous territory. 

It felt closer to drowning than any ocean Steve had ever been in.

* * *

"It's kind of a shame that we can't take your bike," Tony said as he slipped into the front passenger seat of the Mercedes that Steve had chosen for the trip. 

It was the least awful of Howard's cars but it was still ridiculously luxurious, and part of Steve agreed with Tony. He'd always prefer the bike. 

"But we can't take the bike to MIT," Steve answered. When he started the car, it purred to life with the kind of graceful ease that all of Howard's preferred sports cars could never emulate. 

"Why not?" Tony asked. He swung his legs up onto the dash and looked at Steve with the kind of defiance that he was testing more and more these days. "It's not like Dad ever moved to Malibu like I wanted. The trip from New York to MIT isn't all that far at all." 

"But it'd be harder for you to mess with the radio on my bike," Steve pointed out. 

"True. I love you and everything, but if I had to listen to your show tunes all the way there, chances are high that I would throw myself out of the car and in front of the nearest truck," Tony answered flippantly. 

"So the way I feel when forced to listen to your ... what do you whipper snappers call it? 'Metal' music?" Steve teased. 

Tony rolled his eyes. "The Old Man Lost in Time Thing is not funny." 

"Really? They think it's a riot at work." Well, they thought it was a bit funnier than Steve ranting about how much Stane needed to take Steve's old resting place. 

But Tony liked Stane, just the way that Howard did, and even though Steve was pretty sure Stane's interest in Tony bordered on the creepy variety of which Steve was an expert, Steve let it go. 

"You need to work somewhere more exciting than the Pentagon if that's the kind of jokes they think are a riot," Tony said with another eye roll. Steve was fairly sure that this one was more affectionate than the previous one had been.

They were leaving New York state line by the time Tony offered genuine affection. He turned down that godforsaken metal nonsense long enough to say, "Hey, thanks for coming with me today. I mean, you didn't need to. I could have gone myself, but ... thanks." 

Steve glanced over at Tony long enough to see him biting his bottom lip, and the uncertainty was pretty clear. 

"Tony, there is nowhere else I'd rather be than on this trip with you." 

The smile that broke out over Tony's face was brief, but sincere, and the guilt in the pit of Steve's stomach only grew.

He was relieved when the music went back up and Steve had something to focus on besides his internal betrayal.

* * *

Despite the fact that he was failing at being the kind of parent he should have been, even Steve could see that Howard was completely unfit to be a parent. Sometimes, when he was feeling uncharitable, he would wonder if he would have been a better step-parent if Howard had been any type of real parent. 

"I don't know why he would even want to spend time with you," Steve admitted, during just one of those vicious and uncharitable times. 

"Lack of options when his mother has a busy career of her own? Maria wants a kid hanging around a her dig even less than I want a kid hanging around my lab." Howard was too busy nursing a scotch to shrug, but the lack of caring was plain all over his face. 

"You can't be the lesser of two evil choices," Steve told him, because he loved Howard, but it was becoming more of a vindictive love every day.

"He's more interesting in earning my approval than Maria's, anyway." Howard's smile was thin, knowing, and made Steve's stomach plummet directly into his boots as he added, "And yours, more and more these days, isn't he?" 

Maybe it was the guilt that interfered in Steve's judgment for so long and let Howard continue giving spankings long after Steve knew that he was too rough with Tony. At least, that was what Steve told himself as he sat on the bed next to Tony the night that he rubbed ointment into cuts far too deep for a child to have.

 _A child_ Steve thought fiercely as his fingers ghosted over bruised skin. Whether the condemnation was for himself or for Howard was impossible to say. 

He heard a murmur of something as he pulled Tony's pants back up around his waist, though Steve couldn't swear whether it was a "thank you" or a sob. He didn't press the issue either way, because that Stark Pride was already there, child that Tony might have been. 

Steve reserved pressing the issue with Howard instead. 

"You don't get to touch him again," Steve warned. He thought about lowering his voice, but what was the point? These weren't army thin walls or orphanage thin walls. The mansion allowed a person to hide all sorts of secret, no matter how loudly the shouting might have been. Maria had said that to Steve, when he'd been moving in and she'd been moving out.

"Boy needs discipline." Howard tried to argue with him, because Howard always tried to argue with Steve. But with Steve's fingers digging tightly into Howard's wrists as Steve straddled him, there was very little doubt about the fact that Howard would give in to Steve's demands. 

"But you'll let me be the one to give it." The bite along Howard's collarbone was not kind and Steve remembered the virgin he used to be, who had been confused about the act of causing hurt to anyone at all. "Because you crave my approval even more than your son does, don't you?" 

Steve ignored the throb of want when he mentioned Tony, and he ignored the way that his hips involuntarily thrust with greater urgency. 

_A child_ he reminded himself angrily and his next bite was powerful enough to make Howard yelp before he responded.

"Yes. Yes, _daddy_. I need your approval. Please," Howard begged. 

"You need discipline, too, don't you, boy?" 

"Yes. Please, daddy. I try to so hard to be good." 

"You're awful at it." The sneer wasn't as hard to fake tonight as it sometimes was, because Steve had plenty of disgust on reserve. Steve rolled off of Howard and issued a simple command, "Roll onto your back." 

Steve was angry, and he knew that this was something Howard craved, but his whippings still did not make indentations that Howard's had across Tony's flesh. While he was in the middle of them, he heard distinct, light footsteps outside the door, but he did not stop.

The footsteps did not last long, before Steve heard them retreating. By the time they reached the end of the hall, Howard was agreeing that Steve should handle Tony's discipline.

* * *

Steve did not, in general, see much of a need to actually give Tony spankings. His discipline was primarily restricted to sending Tony to his room. The boy was a teenager and that seemed like a far more appropriate method. With Howard increasingly spending time at the office, with S.H.I.E.L.D. business and that awful Stane, the ability to choose the method of discipline was increasingly Steve's decision. 

That might have been true, even if they hadn't had their little chat after Howard's more zealous spankings. When Steve contemplated that, he couldn't help the bit of bitterness. If he'd known that he was going to get replaced so easily by such an asshole, then he could have just saved his breath. 

Or maybe, Steve thought, if he had saved his breath, Howard wouldn't have been spending so much time with Obadiah lately.

Either way, it was a rare instance when Steve actually had to intervene, but when Howard caught Tony sneaking into the lab, Howard held up his end of the bargain and brought Tony to Steve.

Steve looked up from the book he'd been reading. "What's the matter, Howard?" Steve asked, because the frown on Tony and Howard's faces were nearly identical. 

"He knows the lab is off limits, but he was sneaking in there for his stupid little robot project," Howard answered. "You wanted to handle his discipline, then fine, do it. But this requires a lot more than sending him to his room, Steve. He could have gotten hurt." 

"I'm going to MIT in another month. I know how to work in a stupid lab," Tony snapped, and he jerked his arm away from Howard. "Probably a lot better than you do." 

Steve held up a hand. "Stop it. Both of you. Tony come here." Steve could see the surprise on Tony's face, and the set of the jaw that said that Tony was thinking about telling him no. Steve added, "You can either come here and let me give you the spanking or I can leave your punishment up to your father." 

The surprise on Tony's face gave way to anger, but the ultimatum was reason enough for Tony to walk over to the couch where Steve was sitting. 

"You can keep your pants on," Steve said with a headshake as Tony reached for his belt. Howard made a noise of protest, but Steve reminded them both, "I'm a super soldier. Pants aren't much of an obstacle." 

Tony muttered under his breath, something that Steve heard perfectly well, but choose to ignore, as he positioned himself over Steve's lap. Howard took a seat across from them. Steve appreciated his silence. 

"One," Tony said clearly when Steve brought his hand down the first time. 

"Good boy," Steve praised. "If you'd behave that well all the time, Tony, we wouldn't be here. How many times have you snuck into Howard's lab this month?" 

There was a hesitation, as if Tony was thinking about lying. But defiance won out over self-preservation. "How many times has he been passed out drunk down there? Add those plus tonight." 

"Ten, then." When the memory of the war got to be too much for Howard, he drank. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s latest project was only making things worse. Steve couldn't judge him as much as he wanted to, any more than he could judge the disgust in Tony's voice that Steve shared. "A spanking for each time, then." 

Tony said nothing, and Steve brought his hand down a second time. "Two," Tony grunted. 

By the time Steve reached five, Tony's grunts were whimpers, and Steve could feel the unmistakable presence of Tony's hard-on pressing into Steve's lap. He knew, of course, that it was a biological reaction that had nothing to do with _want_.

But Steve _wanted_ very much, and that truth was one he'd been trying to hide, but his breath quickened and so too did his spankings. Better to get this over with, and to send Tony on his way before Steve's awful desires became apparent. 

By the time that Steve reached ten, Tony's answers were barely audible, and there were tears threatening to spill down the boy's face when Tony was given permission to get up. Tony stood next to him, uncertainly, and Steve dismissed him quickly. "Go to your room. Stay there until dinner." 

Howard remained quiet until after the slam of the door was heard. 

"You were better at that than I thought you'd be." 

"Bathroom," Steve answered. "Now." 

Howard followed and Steve was not at all gentle about the removing of Howard's pants, nor was he gentle as he pushed Howard's chest against the wall and spread his legs. Super soldier fingers were not as steady as they should have been as Steve fumbled with the condom and the lube. 

Howard gave quiet agreement until Steve was inside of him. 

"I'd give him to you, you know," Howard told him. 

"What?" Steve's hips stilled, because Howard wasn't suggesting ... 

Howard was a terrible father, worse even than Steve, but he _wouldn't_ suggest that. 

"Tony. I'd give him to you, if that's what you need. If that's what you want. If that's what you need to be happy." 

There was bile in Steve's throat, but there was want elsewhere. He fumbled for the nearest hand towel and used that as a very pathetic gagging device. The ones they had upstairs were better, but the gagging noise that Howard made around the cloth soothed the anger that Steve felt at Howard's suggestion.

 _You're supposed to protect him from me_ , Steve thought helplessly. 

He thought that more as his hips began to move again, and he closed his eyes. He listened to Howard's breath and thought of the feel of Tony pressing into his lap.


End file.
